Voltron Sickfic Collection
by ViolaRosa98
Summary: There's no doctor in space, so Hunk decides that his job of lifting the team up and holding them together should extend beyond the battlefield. / A.k.a., a 6 plus 1 series in which the first five chapters center on Hunk caring for a teammate while they're sick, and the last chapter centers on Team Voltron returning the favor.
1. Ch 1: Shiro

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Shiro, and takes place early on in Season 1.**

* * *

"You outdid yourself this time, _gordo_ ," Lance declares, shoving the last sporkful of the mashed potatoes Hunk had made into his mouth. The orange goop tastes more like French fries than actual mashed potatoes, but it's close enough to be comforting, and it's a heck of a lot better than Coran's cooking and the standard green food goo.

"This was a lot better than the goo," Pidge agrees.

"Shiro liked it," Keith adds, his gaze fixed on the eldest paladin, who had devoured his not-mashed potatoes in fifteen doboshes and spent the remainder of mealtime listening to the other paladins talk.

"I did," Shiro confirms. "It was—."

He's interrupted by the sound of his stomach gurgling. He blushes and rests a hand on his stomach, but the rumbling continues, and before he can get another word out, he clamps his other hand over his mouth and bolts out of the room.

"I should, uh, go… go check on him," Keith stammers, starting to get up from his seat.

"No, I'll go," Hunk decides, gesturing for Keith to sit back down. He doesn't. "He looked like he was about to puke, and I'm _by far_ the one with the most experience when it comes to that."

Keith, still in his half-seated, half-standing position, shifts his gaze between the hall Shiro had run into and Hunk a few times, then, unable to argue with Hunk's logic, nods his assent and lowers himself back into his seat. "Okay."

Hunk nods, then walks out of the dining room, into the hall, and over to the communal bathroom. "Shiro?" he calls, knocking on the door.

He can hear Shiro retching even without being in the room, and he can't help but wince; he's a bleeding heart with a notoriously weak stomach, after all.

"Are you okay?" Hunk asks, even though he knows Shiro's not. "Can I come in?"

"… yeah," Shiro answers breathlessly after a couple of ticks.

Hunk, assuming that that was an answer to his second question, opens the door and walks into the bathroom. He's met with the sight of Shiro kneeling in front of the toilet just across from the door, gripping the edges of the bowl so tightly his biceps are bulging and the knuckles on his flesh-and-blood hand are as white as the bowl itself. The back of Shiro's neck is red, and as Hunk steps closer, he notices beads of sweat dripping down it and beneath the raised collar of his vest.

Shiro turns his head enough to look over his shoulder at Hunk, but before either paladin can get a word out, he whips his head back around and vomits again.

Hunk crouches down a bit behind Shiro, as the stall isn't wide enough for them to sit side by side, and lays a hand on Shiro's back to steady the Black Paladin's convulsing frame. He can feel his own stomach churning at the sight of Shiro heaving wetly into the toilet bowl, but he ignores it, knowing it's nothing compared to what Shiro's going through. He can _see_ the acid bubbling up in Shiro's throat, and the way Shiro's chest heaves and muscles constrict and relax as his dinner is expelled from his body in bits and pieces does _not_ look pleasant.

When Shiro stops retching after a couple of doboshes, Hunk helps him into a full crouch. Shiro blinks at the mess in the toilet, his nose scrunching up in distaste as he does so, and wraps his arms around his middle. Hunk takes it upon himself to flush the toilet, then tells Shiro he'll be back in a tick.

He walks over to the sinks on the opposite side of the bathroom, then grabs a hand towel from one of the hooks on the wall and holds it underneath the faucet. When the towel's damp, he walks back over to Shiro's stall.

 _He looks like shit_ , Hunk thinks as he kneels down in front of Shiro. He's no longer got his head buried in the toilet, but he's curling in on himself, clutching his stomach, and he's sweating bullets. _This should help, though._

Hunk guides Shiro's head up so he can wipe the sweat off Shiro's flushed face, then positions the towel to fit inside Shiro's collar. He double-checks that the collar is keeping the damp towel wrapped loosely around Shiro's neck, then reaches into one of the utility pouches on his belt and pulls out a small vial the size of his thumb.

"I doubt you want to drink anything right now, but you should," Hunk states quietly, assuming based on his own experiences and on Shiro's staring hazily at the floor that Shiro's got a heck of a headache. "When Coran learned about my motion sickness, he gave me this," he adds, showing the vial full of fuchsia liquid to Shiro. "It tastes like strawberry yogurt, but it's a lot smoother; it goes down as easily as water. You should take a sip."

Shiro takes it in his left hand, and Hunk wraps his hand around Shiro's to steady Shiro's twitching fingers as he guides the vial to his lips and takes a small sip of the liquid. Shiro drinks about a third of it before he pushes it away.

Hunk screws the vial's cap back on, then shoves the vial back into his pouch. "How do you feel now?" he asks after a dobosh.

"… tired," Shiro rasps, his voice somehow both gruff and wet. "It feels like there's a fifty-pound weight in my stomach."

"Well, that's normal," Hunk assures him. "It'll go away after a while." He adjusts the towel around Shiro's neck again, then, as a self-blaming thought occurs to him, retracts his hand. "Do you… was there something wrong with the food?" he asks. "You said you didn't have any allergies, and I—."

"The food was great, Hunk," Shiro answers, lifting his gaze enough to meet Hunk's and loosening his grip on his stomach slightly. "The best I've had in a long time, actually."

"So what's with the…?" Hunk gestures to Shiro's general being and position in front of the toilet, then cocks his head at the elder man. "You're not bulimic, are you?" he half-asks, half-demands. He wouldn't have pegged Shiro as a bulimic, but after being unwillingly subjected to so many body modifications during his captivity, he'd understand if Shiro wanted to have some semblance of control over his own body.

"No, I'm not," Shiro replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns his head toward Hunk and offers the younger paladin a small smile. "I guarantee you that if you find a way to make something even _remotely_ resembling chocolate, I will shovel it into my face until I puke."

"Oh, good." Hunk lets out a relieved sigh, then blanches. "I mean, no, _not good_ , 'cause puking is gross, but… I'm glad you don't have an eating disorder." He glances at Shiro again, this time with one eyebrow raised. "Do you think you just overate tonight, then?" he asks.

"Yeah… something like that," Shiro answers, his voice softer now than it was before. He shifts his gaze to the floor again and chews on his chapped bottom lip for a few ticks, then sighs. "I just… it was a lot to digest, figuratively and literally. When I was Zarkon's prisoner, I was fed only on days I fought, and even then, the rations were small, so I…" He sighs again, and doesn't bother looking up to meet Hunk's gaze. "I got used to… to not eating a lot, or often. It's gonna be a while until my stomach can handle three meals a day again."

"Oh, Shiro…" Hunk murmurs. He scooches closer to the Black Paladin and wraps an arm around his broad shoulders, and Hunk's heart constricts at the sight of Shiro blushing furiously. "It's not your fault. You know that, right?" he asks. "It's human nature to adapt to environments. It helps us survive. It helped _you_ survive."

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, then gives Shiro a onceover. Hunk can easily see Shiro's muscles bulging from where he's sitting practically hugging him, which Hunk has a sneaking suspicion Shiro is only letting him do because he doesn't yet have the strength to move away. "You'll be okay again in no time," he asserts. "But, uh… is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?"

"I don't think so," Shiro answers, shaking his head no.

When he lifts his gaze to Hunk a tick later, the resignation in his eyes jumpstarts Hunk's ingenuity.

"What if I made you some light meals?" he offers. "There's something in the kitchen that seems similar to lettuce, except the leaves are pastel pink and there's a hint of something carrot-y in it…" He shakes his head in an effort to clear his mind and get back on topic. "Anyway, there are a bunch of different dishes I could make with it, and all of them would go down more easily than space mashed potatoes. What do you think?"

"That… would actually be really great, Hunk," Shiro decides, a small smile creeping onto his face as he considers the idea. "I would appreciate it. Thank you."

Hunk returns the smile, then helps Shiro to his feet. "Don't mention it, man. We've gotta look out for each other, don't we?"


	2. Ch 2: Pidge

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Pidge, and takes place sometime shortly before S1E6.**

* * *

"Well, what do you know? This actually isn't terrible," Hunk mutters, cocking his head at the bowl of "peanut butter" that he's just finished making. He slides his index finger out of his mouth, then sets the bowl on a tray, where a spork and the electrical heating pad he built earlier are resting, and exits the kitchen.

It doesn't take Hunk more than a couple of doboshes to reach Pidge's bedroom, but when he gets there, he hesitates to knock. _What if she tells me to get lost?_ he frets — and his concern is valid, considering Pidge's scrappy personality and sharp tongue, and the fact that she wasn't in a good mood earlier. She'd scarfed down her breakfast in a matter of doboshes, and then she bolted from the training deck in the middle of an exercise, claiming she _really_ needed to pee — and _yeah_ , that _could have been_ true, but given that she's been irritable as all hell lately and that, if what Hunk read in her diary the night they rescued Shiro is true, she gets her period, Hunk doubts it.

… and if Pidge is keeping her being female a secret, there's a good chance she's going to yell at Hunk if he so much as _hints_ that he knows. He could probably calculate the probability of her telling him to fuck off if he thought about it for more than a few ticks, in fact.

… but Hunk wants to help. He can stand getting yelled at. Pidge has already yelled at him for "rooting around" in her head once. What's one more time?

He raises one fist to knock on her door. "Pidge?" he calls. "Can I, uh, come in?"

"I thought I told everyone to leave me alone," Pidge mutters miserably from inside her room.

 _I should respect her boundaries_ , Hunk thinks, chewing on his bottom lip. _I should leave her alone._

 _… but I can help._

 _… but Pidge doesn't_ want _help_ , he argues with himself.

"I made peanut butter," he says… instead of something more relevant, something like "I know you're on your period and I made you a heating pad to help with the cramps I'm assuming you have based on the fact that you've been clutching your stomach for the past two days."

The door to Pidge's room opens, and before Hunk can even blink, she's standing in front of him, gazing up at him with an adorably skeptical look that makes him both doubt himself and want to force-feed her until she never doubts his culinary skills again.

… but instead of doing that, he just gestures to the tray in his hands, which, due to the height difference between himself and Pidge, is about even with Pidge's face.

"It's not _quite_ peanut butter because there are no peanuts in space," Hunk starts, deciding that he ought to give her a heads-up, "but I found _some_ kind of nuts in the kitchen, as well as salt and xylitol, the sugar alcohol used as a sweetener in peanut butter and a bunch of other foods. I couldn't find a stabilizer, though, so the oil keeps separating from the paste. You're gonna have to stir it all back together, but—."

"Hunk."

Hunk blushes as the realization that he was rambling hits him. "Yeah?"

"Quit standing in the doorway and come inside already," Pidge grumbles, kicking the armor she'd changed out of at some point out of her way as she walks over to her bed and plops down unceremoniously.

Hunk follows Pidge inside, then sets the tray down on her bed and takes a step back.

"You can sit down if you want."

Hunk steps over what looks like Pidge's cuirass, then lowers himself onto her bed. He winces slightly as the mattress dips under his weight.

"What's this?" Pidge asks as she picks up the heating pad and turns it over in her hands.

"It's a heating pad," Hunk answers. "I couldn't find one in storage, so I built one — and I attached an adjustable belt-like thingy to it, so you wouldn't need to hold it to your body all day. The belt is detachable, though, so if you don't like that feature, you just—." He reaches over the tray and presses on the hinges on the sides of the rectangular pad, and the belt falls onto Pidge's lap. "—apply pressure to the connection points and… _voil_ _à_!"

"You… made this?" Pidge marvels. She shoots Hunk the same look she did when he introduced to everyone the Geiger counter he had built out of things he had found inside Keith's shack in the desert: a look of curiosity mixed with respect.

It's a look that brings a smile to Hunk's face, given the fact that it's difficult to pique Pidge's interest, and even harder to earn her respect. She's a genius, and she spouts off computer and scientific jargon like Hunk's never heard anyone do before. It had startled him at first, since for the majority of Hunk's life he'd tended to be the smartest person in the room and, as a result, translate his thoughts into more… _accessible language_ so that laymen could understand him.

He's never met another teenager who can so easily understand his technobabble (as Lance calls it), and so meeting Pidge felt like both a challenge and coming home.

… which is why Hunk wants to help her.

"It's just an electrical heating pad. It wasn't hard to build," he answers. "I just encased the insulated electrical resistance wire in an envelope — apparently the majority of Altean fabric is waterproof! — and then wrapped it up in some flannel-like fabric that, if I read the Altean tags correctly, is capable of withstanding high temperatures. Although," he adds hesitantly, "I'd avoid putting it on the highest setting if I were you. I'm still not sure how Altean degrees compare to ours."

The Green Paladin turns the device around in her hands once more, then drops it onto her lap and shoots Hunk a suspicious look. "What do you know, and how do you know what you know?" she demands.

Hunk flinches at Pidge's tone, but doesn't react otherwise; he'd been expecting an interrogation, after all. "I know you get your period. You were complaining about it at one point in your diary, and—."

"I still can't believe you read my diary," Pidge grumbles.

"Sorry," Hunk responds, even though he isn't. He's never been a fan of secrets, and he's always been a fan of knowledge — especially _hidden_ knowledge because knowledge shouldn't be hidden. It should be accessible to everyone all the time.

… or so his pappy thought.

"It's fine," Pidge decides, after glaring at Hunk for a couple more ticks. "I forgive you." She glances down at the heating pad in her lap, then picks it up. "I didn't appreciate the invasion of privacy," she starts, staring down at the pad with furrowed brows as she pokes at its different features and settings, "but I can… I can appreciate your curiosity, and the lengths you'll go to get information." She lifts her gaze to meet Hunk's, then continues. "You're smart, Hunk. You're a lot more intelligent than you let on."

Hunk smiles, then bites his lip as he remembers that there's something more important to talk about than whether or not Pidge thinks he's smart. "I won't tell anyone that you're a girl," he promises. "I mean, I like to know things, but I know it's not my place to—."

"I'll probably tell everyone soon," she interrupts, a hint of passivity in her voice. "I mean, Shiro already knows; he figured out I'm Commander Holt's daughter when he, Keith, and I went to retrieve the Red Lion and I told him that my father and brother were the ones on the Kerberos mission with him. I think Allura's figured it out, too. She was practically interrogating me during the party we held after we defeated that robeast."

She glances down at the heating pad and the not-peanut butter, then blinks back up at Hunk. "Thank you for… all this," Pidge continues, gesturing to the items between them and scooping a bit of the "peanut" paste onto her finger. She pops her fingertip into her mouth, then grins. "Hey! This is great, Hunk!" she exclaims. She licks the rest of the not-peanut butter off of her finger, then smiles softly at Hunk. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Pidge," Hunk replies, shooting her a soft smile of his own. "I'm glad you like it."

The two of them fall into a companionable silence, but Pidge breaks it after a dobosh. "How did you know what I needed?" she asks. "I don't remember you saying you have a sister."

"Well, I _did_ take biology," Hunk laughs. "I also had a girlfriend, though, back at home." He glances down at Pidge's floor, littered with stuff already, and stifles a sigh as he recalls all the times his mom had told him that he had to clean his room if he wanted to invite his girlfriend over because she wouldn't stand for her thinking she had raised a slob. "Whenever it was her time of the month, I'd make her favorite food, _poi_ — Samoan-style banana pudding, essentially — and spend the day watching movies with her. She said it helped."

When Hunk looks back at Pidge, he sees that her lips are pressed into a thin line and that her hands are balled into fists at her sides. She looks jealous — but Hunk has no idea what Pidge could be jealous of, so he brushes it off as her cramps acting up again and gestures to the heating pad. "Try it," he urges. "It should help."

She bites her lip, then obliges. She turns the device on and chooses a heating level, then presses it against her lower belly. She holds it there with one hand while she scoops another sporkful of the not-peanut butter into her mouth.

"How does it feel?" Hunk asks.

"Good," Pidge purrs, her brows unfurrowing as the heat radiates across her abdomen. "It feels really, _really_ good."

"I'm glad," Hunk responds. He shoots Pidge a sincere smile, then, noting her disheveled hair and tired expression, pushes himself off the bed. "I'll leave you alone now, but let me know if you need any—."

"Can you stay?"

Hunk blinks a couple of times in surprise — he definitely hadn't been expecting _that_ — then cocks his head at Pidge. She's staring at him like a deer caught in a car's headlights, as if she can't believe she's just asked him to stay, but the strength with which her lithe fingers are gripping Hunk's wrist reveal that she doesn't regret asking.

"Please?" Pidge adds, a desperate tinge to her voice that Hunk knows he can't attribute to her dropping the heating pad on her bed in her haste to grab hold of him.

Hunk nods his assent. Pidge smiles and releases Hunk's wrist to sit back down on the bed, and Hunk quickly follows suit. He grabs the heating pad she'd dropped and presses it against her belly; her cold hands brush his warm one as she takes the pad from him.

"Of course I'll stay," Hunk smiles.

… and it's not an answer, but a promise.


	3. Ch 3: Allura

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Allura, and takes place immediately after the events described in Volume 1 of the VLD comics, which is set shortly after S1E8.**

 **The song Hunk is singing at the beginning of this one-shot is called _La'u Samoa_ , and it's sung by Marina Davis. The lyrics roughly translate to:**

 **My Samoa, my beloved Samoa;**

 **God is first; in God we trust;**

 **When troubles come,**

 **Stand strong.**

 **I love you, my beloved Samoa.**

* * *

" _La'u Samoa e… la'u Samoa e... fa'amuamua le atua oe o lo'u fa'avae..._ " Hunk sings as he digs through the kitchen cabinets, looking for the things he needs to make breakfast. " _A o mai ini puapuaga… fa'amalosi tu mau pea… ou te alofa ia te oe la'u Samoa..._ "

"Are you singing a song from Earth?"

The unexpected interruption causes Hunk to hit his head on the top of the cabinet. He groans, then turns around and, upon seeing the Princess, raises one eyebrow. "Allura?" he says, more in question than in greeting, as it's almost half a varga earlier than it is when Allura usually wanders into the kitchen each morning.

"Hello, Hunk."

He's debating whether to ask what she's doing here so early or to scold her for sneaking up on him when he realizes that she's up and about and jumps into action. He's at her side in an instant, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and guiding her onto the island in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing out of bed, Princess?" he asks. "You should be resting! I mean, even Coran and Shiro aren't up yet!"

"Oh, Coran is awake. He's doing some routine maintenance on the castle, in fact. He stopped by my quarters to check on me before he got to it," Allura responds. "Although…" she adds, a conspiratorial smirk on her face, "I pretended to be asleep when he came in. I didn't want to get yelled at for being awake."

"You _should_ get yelled at for being awake," Hunk retorts. "You saved an entire planet using nothing but your own life force. You need to rest."

"I _did_ rest, Hunk," Allura argues, rolling her eyes good-naturedly and smiling softly at the Yellow Paladin. "I fell asleep not long after you all returned from the Karthulian System last quintant, so I got plenty of sleep. Besides," she adds, giggling as the mice scuttle into the kitchen and climb up her nightgown and into her lap, "my friends were getting antsy."

She strokes the fur atop Platt's head, then glances around the kitchen and frowns. "Speaking of friends, where is Shiro?" she asks. "I know Coran and I don't usually come into the kitchen for another thirty doboshes or so, but Shiro is usually already here when we arrive."

"I guess he's still sleeping," Hunk answers, shrugging. "I hope he is, anyway. He sleeps less than Pidge, and that's saying something."

"Shiro _does_ need some rest," Allura agrees, still stroking Platt's fur. "I don't know how he's so alert and awake in the mornings when Coran and I come in here, honestly. I woke up in the middle of the night last quintant and saw him wandering the halls, still in his day clothes. He doesn't seem to sleep often, or well." She sighs, then tilts her head up to look Hunk in the eyes; Hunk meets her gaze, even though Allura's purple pupils still freak him out a bit. "You ought to sleep in some mornings, too, you know," she continues. "Coran would be more than happy to prepare breakfast if you would like to get some additional sleep."

"Well, uh, no offense, Princess," Hunk starts, a daring smirk creeping onto his face even as he raises his hands in a placating gesture, "but I don't trust Coran's cooking."

"He's an awful chef, isn't he?" Allura chuckles.

"Okay, wait a sec—uh, a tick," Hunk says. He schools his expression into something more neutral — his eyes had widened to the size of golf balls at Allura's reply — then continues. "You mean to tell me that Altean food isn't actually disgusting?"

"Oh, no, of course it's not!" Allura exclaims. She shakes her head no, then immediately squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches up her nose, reminding Hunk that, despite her composed demeanor, she's still unwell.

He places a hand on Allura's knee in a silent act of sympathy, then steps past her to grab a clean cloth from the countertop and run it underneath the warm sink water. He wrings the cloth out until it's only slightly damp, then gently lifts Allura's hair up and positions it along the base of her skull. "The heat should help with the headache," he explains.

When Allura grabs hold of the cloth, Hunk turns his back to her just long enough to grab a water pouch from the fridge. "Oh, and drink this," he adds, handing the pouch to her. "You get dehydrated when you overexert yourself, and since you just woke up, I'm assuming you haven't had anything to drink yet."

"You're assuming correctly. Thank you, Hunk," Allura responds, shooting him a grateful smile. She punches the straw into the water pouch and takes a sip, and the crease between her brows disappears. "Anyway," she continues, "Altean food isn't as bad as Coran's dishes imply. I'll admit that Altean dishes aren't as… _elaborate_ as your creations, as Alteans typically eat only those foods with optimal nutritional value, but Altean food isn't _bad_. It's just sort of… plain."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that not all Altean food tastes like that one paladin lunch did," Hunk replies, shuddering at the thought of that so-called meal Coran had prepared for them that one time, "because I was thinking of cooking an Altean dish for breakfast today."

"Oh, what a lovely idea!" Allura exclaims. "Can you try making porytt? The castle-ship's chefs used to make it with bel and serve it with some lebenx, and—."

"What's porytt?"

" _What?!_ " Allura cries. "You've never— _ahh_ , right… silly me! I'm sorry, Hunk. Give me a tick."

Hunk chuckles. "Sure thing, Princess."

Allura retrieves her cell phone-like device from some pocket on her nightgown, then, a couple of button taps later, turns the phone toward Hunk. He glances at it, head cocked.

"Well," he starts, chuckling again, "I only have the vaguest idea of what these words say, but this looks like grits, which is a dish we have on Earth. It was one of the dishes the cooks at the Garrison never screwed up, so… well, if porytt _tastes_ as good as it _looks_ , this would be great to serve!" He smiles at Allura, then frowns. "Oh, wait a sec. What's the, uh… lennox?"

"I believe you mean 'lebenx,'" Allura laughs. "It's a four-legged mammal, about the size of the Krellians you visited first, native to Rygnirath — the former Yellow Paladin's home planet — but popular on several other planets as well. The meat tastes differently depending on which part of the animal it was cut from, but the most popular cut is that of the upper leg. When people talk about lebenx meat, they're usually referring to meat cut from its upper leg."

"… sounds like a space pig," Hunk muses. "I wonder if it tastes like ham."

"Pig? Ham?"

He looks at Allura like she has two heads, then laughs. "I guess you're not the only one who forgets we're not from the same planet," he admits. "Anyway, do we have any of this, um… _lebenx_?"

"We might," Allura answers noncommittally. "I believe someone at the last market we stopped at was selling lebenx, but Coran was never a fan of its taste, so I don't know if he bought any. If he did, though, it'd be in the meat locker with the rest of the meat."

"Well, let's hope he bought some," Hunk responds. "I want to try this alien ham."

"I would like to have it, too," Allura adds. "It's been ten thousand years since I've had porytt, after all."

She and Hunk, after that, fall into a companionable silence reminiscent of every morning on the Castle of Lions thus far, and he almost forgets that Allura is even in the kitchen until she suddenly says his name.

"What's up, Princess?" he asks just as he finds a package of lebenx meat.

"You never answered my question."

"What was it again?"

"I asked if that song you were singing when I walked in is a song from Earth. The words were not translating for me."

"Oh. Well, yeah," Hunk answers. "It's not an English song, though, so that's probably why the lyrics weren't translating. It's a Samoan song."

"Samoan?"

"Yeah, Samoan," Hunk affirms, chuckling at the way Allura butchered the pronunciation of the word. "It's one of the many languages people speak on Earth."

"I see," Allura replies. She strokes Platt's fur again as she considers this new information about Earth, then extends her hand toward Hunk. "Come here, Hunk," she half-commands, half-requests, a small smile gracing her dark features as she does so. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like you to tell me about Samoan culture."

"Okay, but only if you promise to go back to bed after breakfast," Hunk responds. He sets the lebenx meat down on the countertop, then makes his way over to Allura. "I don't want to get yelled at by Coran for hindering your recovery!"

Allura nods and shakes Hunk's hand, but the smirk on her face tells him that she'll do whatever she damn well pleases, regardless of their agreement.

… which is exactly what Hunk expects from the Altean Princess.


	4. Ch 4: Keith

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Keith, and takes place sometime between S2E9 and S2E10.**

 _ **Fa'afetai i le Atua**_ **is a Samoan phrase that roughly translates to "thanks to God."**

 _ **Uso**_ **is a Samoan word used to refer to your same-sex sibling, or to your same-sex friend who you view as being _like_ your sibling.**

* * *

"Here."

When Keith turns in the direction of the voice, he comes face-to-neck with Hunk. He tilts his head up to meet the Yellow Paladin's gaze, then raises one eyebrow at the muffin-like thingy he's all but shoving into Keith's mouth. "What's that?" Keith asks.

"It's bread — or the closest thing to it I've found on this planet, anyway," Hunk answers. "If you're gonna be drinking _that_ —." He looks with overt disgust at the reddish-purple drink in Keith's hand. "—you ought to eat something that will soak up the alcohol."

"I ate supper," Keith argues, shoving the ersatz muffin back toward Hunk. "I just skipped dessert 'cause I don't like sweets."

"I know, but dude, that's, like, your fourth glass of… what _is_ that, anyway? It smells like peppermint-flavored vodka," Hunk responds.

"It's good," Keith grumbles in protest before taking another swig of it. "It tastes like the moonshine my pop used to drink, but with a… a Christmas-y flavor, I guess?" He shrugs. "I like it."

"Well, still," Hunk insists, his tone somewhat chastising. "You should eat some bread to avoid getting too drunk." He glances over to where Coran, Shiro, and Allura are conversing with this civilization's King, then turns back toward Keith and grins. "Allura will have our heads if we do anything to embarrass her in front of the Vardeyan King."

"… but Shiro's the head," Keith counters. He cocks his head at Hunk and blinks, then glances around the large room, a bewildered expression on his face all the while. "Where is Allura, anyway?" he asks.

"She's over there," Hunk answers, pointing to where the Alteans and Shiro are standing on the far side of the room. "She's with Coran and Shiro."

"I don't—I mean, I, uh…" Keith starts, only to cut himself off. He squints in the direction Hunk had pointed in, then shakes his head. "It's, um… it's kind of… fuzzy… past you."

"… okay, Keith, I think you've had enough of this alien Christmas moonshine."

Hunk plucks the glass out of Keith's hands, and Keith grumbles something unintelligible in protest before lunging at Hunk, who sidesteps the Red Paladin more easily than he should be able to.

 _He's definitely drunk_ , Hunk sighs silently as Keith misjudges the distance between Hunk and himself and crashes to the floor.

When Keith glances over his shoulder to look at Hunk, the look of confusion on his face gives the Yellow Paladin pause. "Hunk?" he asks tentatively.

"Yeah…?"

"Where are you?"

"What? I'm right here, Keith, in front of you."

When Keith doesn't answer — he just continues to whip his head back and forth, his eyes getting wider with each passing second — Hunk crouches down beside him and grabs his wrist.

… which is, apparently, the wrong move; as soon as Hunk's fingers wrap around Keith's wrist, Keith _screams_ and tries desperately to wrestle himself free.

 _Oh, crap_ , Hunk thinks before adding aloud, "it's just me, Keith! Calm down!"

"What's going on over here?!" Shiro demands, rushing over and crouching down behind Keith.

The other members of Team Voltron circle around the three crouched paladins, and as the air around them shifts accordingly, Keith bristles. "Shiro?" he calls unsurely.

"I'm right here, Keith," Shiro assures him. "What happened?"

"Where are you, Shiro?" Keith half-asks, half-cries. "I can't see. I can't see _anything_!"

"The rumors are true, then," the Vardeyan King observes as he joins the paladins' circle. He glances at Allura, then shakes his head and shifts his gaze toward Keith. "The Red Paladin is Galran."

"What are you _talking_ about?" Shiro demands, turning around and standing up so that he can stare down at the King.

The King ignores Shiro's question and instead turns to address Allura. "How can you ask us to aid you in your quest to vanquish the Galra when you have a Galran paladin, Princess?" he asks.

"Well, I… um…"

 _You've gotta be kidding me…_ Hunk grumbles silently as he glances between Allura and Keith. It's no secret that Allura's been avoiding and ignoring Keith ever since he admitted to having Galran heritage… but now is _so_ not the time for the Princess to give into her ill will toward the Red Paladin.

"I don't know what you've heard, your Majesty, but Keith was raised on _Earth_ , just like we were. He is _nothing_ like the Galrans fighting for Zarkon's Empire," Shiro growls, stepping closer to the King as Coran lays a hand on Allura's shoulder and whispers something in her ear.

"He is still Galran," the King argues. "You will not be able to defeat the Galra Empire if you allow a Galran to pilot a Voltron lion."

"What are you suggesting?" Shiro asks, his voice scarily low.

"… Shiro?"

Shiro glances over his shoulder at Keith, and although his expression softens ever so slightly at the sight of his closest friend, he doesn't move from where he's currently invading the King's personal space. "I'm here, Keith."

"Not for long," the King chuckles before quickly adding, "guards! Now!"

Shiro opens his mouth to demand an explanation, but before he can get even a single word out, four Vardeyans jump down from a hatch in the ceiling and tackle him. Dozens of other Vardeyans, meanwhile, appear seemingly out of thin air and surround the rest of Team Voltron.

"What's going on?!" Keith half-cries, half-demands as he raises one arm to block his face from attacks he can't see coming.

 _Oh, just the usual…_ Hunk groans as he tugs his helmet on and grabs one of the Vardeyan guards by the ankles, tripping him before he can get to Keith.

He scrambles over the downed guard and, as he crawls his way toward Keith, glances around at the other members of his team. He sees that Lance, aiming to injure, not kill, is sniping at the ceiling joists on which several Vardeyan guards are perched, while Pidge is taking care of the Vardeyans on the ground. He also sees that Coran has managed to commandeer one of the Vardeyans' energy blasters, and is standing guard at Allura's backside to make sure no one gets to her while she yells at the King for poisoning one of her paladins.

… and although all of the paladins make for scary opponents, Hunk can't help but want to say a quick prayer for the Vardeyans fighting Shiro, as Shiro's arm is covered in their bluish-purple blood. He's singlehandedly fighting the Vardeyans attempting to approach Keith from the left side of the room — and given the fact that Shiro's just one man, he's doing a damn good job.

It's easy to become mesmerized by the way Shiro's body moves as he fights, so before he can, Hunk turns back toward Keith. "Keith," he says, and it's harder than Hunk thought it'd be to keep his voice soft but still loud enough to be heard over the commotion, "it's me, Hunk. I'm—uh, I mean… can I grab your hand?"

"Okay."

 _He didn't put up a fight, fa'afetai i le Atua_ , Hunk thinks as he raises his energy shield and grabs Keith's wrist. He holds Keith close so that he, too, will be protected from the blasts raining down on them from the ceiling, and during a lull in the gunfire, he asks him where his helmet is.

"I… I don't know," Keith answers. He chews on his bottom lip for a couple of ticks, then asks a question of his own. "What… what's going on, Hunk?"

"Well, uh, a bunch of aliens are trying to kill you," Hunk answers honestly.

"… because I'm Galran?"

 _"Hunk!"_ Shiro grunts through the comm. line, and Hunk thanks God that he doesn't have to answer Keith's question right now. _"You got Keith?"_

"Yeah, I've got him. I'm gonna try to get him back to the Castle," Hunk answers.

 _"Good idea. When—."_ Shiro grunts again, and Hunk looks up just in time to see Shiro body-slam another Vardeyan. _"When you get to the Castle, bring Keith to the med. bay. We'll be there as soon as we deal with the Vardeyans."_

"Copy that, Shiro."

"Hunk! You've got incoming!"

The addressed paladin turns around to see not just Pidge getting thrown backwards by the force of a large laser beam, but two Vardeyans charging him and Keith as well — so he lunges at the closer one, grabs his wrist, and flings him into the other one. He watches the two aliens crash into a table, then rushes back over to Keith. He reaches the Red Paladin just in time to shield him from another incoming laser beam.

When the laser beam disappears, Hunk lifts his head above his shield to search the room for the nearest exit. He spots it in the corner of the opposite wall, past where Lance is standing in the middle of the room, still trying to pick off the Vardeyans crouched on the ceiling joists.

 _Why do all of my friends completely disregard their own safety?_ Hunk grouses as he opens a comm. line with Lance.

 _"Hey, Hunk. You got Mullet?"_

"Yeah, I've got him. I'm gonna take him back to the Castle. The exit's past you. Cover us, please?"

 _"You got it, big guy!"_

"Thanks, _uso_ ," Hunk grins. "Oh, and for God's sake, Lance, don't leave yourself exposed like that," he adds as an afterthought, his anxiety making his tone sharper than is necessary. "One paladin down is already one too many!"

He closes the line before the Blue Paladin can respond, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lance duck for cover behind an overturned table.

"Okay, Keith," Hunk says, turning back toward the Red Paladin. "I'm gonna pick you up and carry you, alright? We've gotta get back to the Castle… preferably sooner rather than later."

"… okay."

While Keith's acquiescence shocks Hunk, he shakes his surprise off, knowing he doesn't have time to think about poetic things like Keith being more open with him after their disgusting voyage into the belly of a weblum, and dissipates his energy shield long enough to scoop the Red Paladin up in a fireman's carry. He stands up once he's sure he's got a strong grip on Keith, then raises his shield again and sprints toward the exit. When Hunk reaches the door a couple of ticks later, he crouches down so as to enable Keith to slide off his shoulders.

"Activate your shield," Hunk commands as he helps Keith into an upright position again, "and keep it in front of you."

It takes a tick or two for Keith's shield to materialize, but once it does, Hunk dissipates his own shield and summons his bayard. He moves so that he's standing beside Keith, rather than in front of him like he's been doing, so that he doesn't accidentally whack the blind paladin with his cannon, then starts firing at the feet of the dozen or so aliens standing between them and the Castle.

While the Vardeyans are preoccupied with avoiding the blasts Hunk had directed at them, the two paladins make a break for the Castle. It's easy enough to dodge the Vardeyans, but the Castle is still a ways away, and so the second Hunk reaches the front plaza, he skids to a halt. The sudden stop sends Keith crashing into Hunk, but he regains his composure quickly. "Hunk?" he asks.

"I'm here. We're… we're safe now," Hunk pants. "Just… gimme a… a second."

He takes another gulp of air, then glances over his shoulder to make sure that the doors to the front plaza are closed. He breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing that they automatically locked behind them, then turns back toward Keith. "Okay, I'm good. Let's get you to the med. bay."

He grabs Keith's wrist again, then leads him to the Castle's medical wing, helps him onto the bed, and opens up a comm. line with Allura. "Princess?" he asks.

"Allura's here?"

Hunk shakes his head no, then, remembering that Keith can't see what he's doing, answers verbally. "No, she's not. I'm talking to her through the comms.," he explains.

"Oh."

 _"Hello, Hunk,"_ Allura responds, her voice as calm and smooth as ever. _"Are you with Keith?"_

"Yeah, we just entered the med. bay. How're things over there?"

 _"Shiro has the King in a headlock, and Lance and Pidge have herded the Vardeyans that were outside inside and are standing guard over them."_ She sighs, then, as an afterthought, adds, _"are you hurt?"_

"We're fine," Hunk answers, even though he's got a feeling Allura was only inquiring about _him_ — much like how she only thanked _him_ after they came back from their scaultrite-retrieving mission. "Well, _I'm_ fine. Keith's still blind."

 _"I assumed as much. Can you tell me what Keith was drinking?"_

"Well, I don't know what it's called, but it was some reddish-purple liquid that smelled like peppermint-flavored vodka."

 _"Peppermint-flavored vodka?"_

"Yeah, it's, um… something alcoholic, like nunvill, but it smelled really, uh… cool, and fresh, and, uh—."

Allura sends a visual of the drink through their helmets' visors. _"Is this it?"_ she asks.

"Yeah, that's it."

 _"I'm scanning its composition now and… okay, I just sent you the data."_

It doesn't take long for Hunk to spot a very unwelcome ball-and-stick model amongst the data. He groans at the sight of it.

"What is it?" Keith asks.

 _"What do you see, Hunk?"_ Allura inquires.

"The drink contains a substantial amount of methanol. It's a type of alcohol, like ethanol, but it's far more toxic," Hunk explains. "It's lethal to humans in large quantities, and as little as ten milliliters of it can damage a human's optic nerve."

 _"It's also highly toxic to the Galra!"_ Coran chips in. _"I've heard stories of some Galrans going permanently blind after ingesting little more than a drop!"_

Hunk glances at Keith out of the corner of his eye and gulps. _I hope he can't hear Coran_ , he thinks as he refocuses his attention on the Altean advisor's words.

 _"I'm also detecting the presence of a substance whose pheromone is highly attractive to Galrans,"_ Coran continues. _"If Keith was attracted to this drink, that's probably the reason why."_

"… so the Vardeyans put catnip in Keith's drink," Hunk translates.

"I'm not a cat!" Keith cries indignantly.

 _"Essentially… yes."_

"It's good to know that something like that exists," Hunk states as he shrugs off all of the ideas regarding how he could weaponize catnip that are currently stampeding through his brain. "Anyway… should I put Keith in a pod? The methanol seems to have damaged his optic nerve, so the best thing to do would be to put him in a pod so it can heal the nerve, right?"

 _"Well, actually, Number Two, you have to flush the methanol out of Keith's system before you can do that. The damage to Keith's optic nerve wasn't caused by an injury, but rather by a poison of sorts, so if you put him in a pod without flushing the poison out first, you'll only be treating a symptom — not the actual problem. He'll go blind again as soon as he exits suspended animation."_

"Okay, so how can we flush the methanol out of his system?"

 _"Well, first, you have to—."_

There's a rustling sound on the other end of the line, then some shouting. Hunk catches the words "Galran," "threat," and "show you" before the line goes dead.

"Coran?!" Hunk half-calls, half-cries. "Coran! Answer me!"

He doesn't answer; neither does Allura.

"What's going on, Hunk?" Keith demands.

"The line's dead," Hunk answers, sighing. He pulls his helmet off and tucks it underneath his arm, then runs his fingers through his hair. "It's fine, though. I…" _I have no idea what to do._ "I know what to do."

"You do?"

The blatantly [and uncharacteristically] hopeful tone of Keith's voice hurts Hunk's heart, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat before he's able to respond.

"Yeah," Hunk affirms, and there's only the faintest hint of hesitation in his voice despite all the anxiety pooling in his gut. "'Course I do."

 _Okay, Hunk, think_ , Hunk commands himself. _Alcohol dehydrogenase converts methanol to formaldehyde, which aldehyde dehydrogenase then converts to formic acid… so I have to stop the conversation to formaldehyde._

 _… but is that even possible?_

Hunk sighs.

 _I don't think I can stop the toxification process… but maybe I can interrupt it?_

He bites his lip and glances at Keith. He's got a deep-set frown on his face, and he's biting his fingernails anxiously. It's unnerving to see him so visibly rattled.

 _What if I introduce ethanol to the system?_ Hunk wonders. _It'll activate the alcohol dehydrogenase enzyme faster than the methanol will, and ADH will convert the methanol to acetaldehyde instead of formaldehyde…_

 _… yeah, that'll work._

"Okay, I know what to do!" Hunk declares, much more confidently this time. "This is going to sound crazy, Keith, but I, uh, I need to get you drunk."

"You _what_?"

"It sounds crazy, I know," Hunk says. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, even though Keith can't see him, then proceeds to explain himself. "It'll work, though. We can use ethanol to competitively inhibit the first step in the methanol toxification process — or, in other words, the ethanol will do what the methanol in your system is _trying_ to do, but faster, and with a much less toxic outcome."

"… whatever you say, Hunk."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Hunk chuckles, knowing full well that Keith didn't understand a word he just said. "Now, get up; we're going to the kitchen."

The Red Paladin slides off the bed much more carefully than he would if he had his sight, then holds his hand out in a silent plea for help. Hunk smiles at the sight, then takes his hand and guides him out of the med. bay and into the kitchen. He helps Keith onto the island in the middle of the room, then starts rummaging through the fridge for nunvill. It's a disgusting drink, but it's one of the few things in the Castle with ethanol in it.

He pours some into a glass, then walks over to Keith and holds the glass up to his lips. "This is nunvill," he informs the blind paladin. "I know it's gross, but it's got ethanol in it, so you've got to drink it."

The disgusted expression that comes over Keith's face almost makes Hunk laugh — but only almost. He suppresses his laugh and, wearing a grossed-out expression of his own, watches as Keith downs all the nunvill in the glass in one swig. He shudders as he swallows the liquid, then shoves the glass forward. Hunk takes it from him.

"I still can't see anything," Keith complains.

"You won't for a while yet. I'm not sure how much methanol got into your system, but it was enough to damage your optic nerve," Hunk replies calmly. "When there's no more methanol in your system, you can go in a pod and get your optic nerve healed, but Coran said we have to flush the—."

 _"Hunk?"_

"The comms. are working again!" Hunk cries gleefully. He accepts the comm. call from Allura and slips on his helmet to hear her better. "What's up, Allura?" he asks. "What happened? Are you all okay?"

 _"Yes, we're all alright,"_ Allura answers. _"The King said something about Keith being part Galra, and Shiro…"_ She sighs. _"Shiro activated his arm and asked the King if he wanted to be introduced to_ his _Galran side, which caused another fight to break out. We ended it quickly, though, and we're all on our way back to the Castle now."_ She pauses for a tick, then adds, _"we will not be aligning with the Vardeyans."_

"I'd say I'm sorry to hear that, but honestly, after what they did to Keith, I'm not," Hunk responds.

 _"The Vardeyans would have been valuable allies, but an alliance cannot be negotiated if one party does not trust the other,"_ Allura avers, and Hunk has to bite his tongue to keep himself from pointing out the irony of that statement to her. _"Anyway, please bring Keith to the med. bay — if you're not there already, that is. Coran wants to do a scan to determine the concentration of methanol in his system. We'll be there shortly."_

"You got it, Princess," Hunk replies. "I'll see you soon."

He closes the comm. line with Allura, then pours Keith another glass of nunvill and dives into an explanation of the situation. "I'm not sure whether it was their decision or ours, but the Vardeyans won't be joining the Coalition." He hands Keith the glass he'd poured for him, then adds, "here's some more nunvill. When you're done drinking it, we'll head back to the med. bay. The rest of the team will be back soon, and Allura said Coran wants to do a scan of your body to see how much methanol is still in your system."

"Okay," Keith shrugs. He downs the second glass of nunvill dutifully (but with as much revulsion as he did the first glass), then slams it on the countertop, slides off the island, and grabs Hunk's hand.

The two paladins are halfway to the med. bay when Keith breaks the almost-eerie silence with, "do you think Allura will ever see me as anything other than a Galran?"

The uncharacteristic diffidence in Keith's voice gives Hunk pause, and when he turns his head so as to look at the Red Paladin more directly, his eyes are drawn to Keith's dilated pupils, drawn-together brows, and paler-than-usual skin. It's odd to see Keith visibly afraid, considering his aggressive nature, but Hunk doesn't blame him for being scared.

"She already does, Keith," Hunk answers, his tone serious. "She sees you as a paladin."

"… even though I'm Galran?"

"Yes. You're still _you_ , Keith," Hunk asserts. "You're still you, just… well, now we know you're attracted to catnip."

"It wasn't catnip!" Keith cries indignantly as he wrestles his hand out of Hunk's. "I'm not a cat!"

"You sure?" Hunk snickers. "'Cause I _distinctly_ remember you practically _inhaling_ that peppermint moonshine."

" _You_ of all people have no right to criticize me for eating or drinking strange alien foods, Hunk," Keith deadpans.

"Okay, I was right," Hunk boasts, and the ear-to-ear grin on his face contrasts with the serious tone of his voice. "Galran Keith is _definitely_ funnier than human Keith."

The intentional callback to the bonding moment the two paladins had during their trip into the belly of the weblum elicits a grin from Keith, but he immediately crosses his arms over his chest and tries to assume a surlier expression.

He fails, though, and the failed attempt brings a smile to Hunk's own face.

"Come on," Hunk encourages softly, laying a hand on Keith's shoulder and guiding him further down the hall. "We're almost to the med. bay, buddy."


	5. Ch 5: Coran

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Coran, and takes place early on in Season 3.**

* * *

 _Squeak!_

"You guys couldn't sleep, either, huh?"

Chuchule, Plachu, and Chulatt manage to scale Hunk's body within ticks, and they promptly begin nuzzling his shoulder. The largest mouse, Platt, meanwhile, plops down on the island in the middle of the castle-ship's kitchen and cocks his head in the direction of the tray of not-petits fours that Hunk is holding.

"Oh," Hunk huffs amusedly. "You're hungry."

He sets the tray down on the island, then plucks a petit four off of it and hands it to Platt. It's almost as big as the mouse's head, and if Hunk were in a better mood, he'd laugh at the way Platt's face disappears behind the treat as he takes a bite out of it.

"So am I."

… and although that's not a lie, it's not the truth, either. He'd woken up around the fourth varga of the quintant, and despite his best efforts, he'd been unable to fall back asleep. The muffled grunts that any awake paladin could usually hear coming from Shiro's room had been absent, and the complete and utter silence had unnerved Hunk and pushed him out of bed.

He'd wandered down to the workshop that he and Pidge share, figuring he might as well see if she fell asleep there again, then carried her to bed after finding her hunched over her laptop, sound asleep. He'd been debating whether or not to try to go back to sleep when he heard a loud gasp from a nearby bedroom. It'd sounded like Keith, and although Hunk had wanted to go knock on his door and make sure he was alright, he knew better than to do so. The first — and last — time Hunk had tried to help Keith recover from a nightmare, the Red Paladin had forcibly shoved him out of his room with little more than "you wanna help? Help me _find Shiro_!"

Keith hadn't apologized the morning after, but Hunk hadn't minded. They've all been on edge.

 _He's not the only one who misses Shiro_ , Hunk thinks, leaning back against the island and popping a petit four into his mouth. He'd seen someone selling them at the mall a while back, but with all that's happened recently, he hadn't had a chance to try his hand at the recipe until now.

… and why _not_ make French pastries before the space equivalent of dawn? While serving the paladins petits fours won't cheer them up or make them forget about what happened to Shiro, it'll let Hunk clear _his_ mind and provide _himself_ some small amount of comfort.

 _That's not selfish, is it?_

 _Squeak!_

Hunk turns his head slightly to get a better view of Platt, who, now that he's finished his first petit four, is making a not-so-silent plea for a second.

 _Silly mouse_ , Hunk thinks as he hands the chubby mouse another petit four and shoves two others in his own mouth. There's a cavernous hole in his stomach that, for once, has nothing to do with his almost-insatiable appetite — but he can, and _will_ , pretend it does.

It's a lot easier for him to sate his appetite than to stop being scared, after all.

… and he _is_ scared because all Hunk is, when it comes down to it, is a seventeen-year-old boy who wants to go home.

He hadn't even wanted to go to the Garrison, in all honesty. He'd applied to get everyone who kept telling him that he was "made for bigger and better things" than the lazy life he _wanted_ to live off his back, and he ended up getting accepted. He'd enrolled — _or would it be_ enlisted _?_ he wonders — because it was _practical_ to do so; going to the Garrison allowed him to get out of his underequipped school and be educated _for free_ at one of the world's most prestigious schools.

… and _okay_ , the idea of being able to work on cutting-edge technology _as a teenager_ also contributed to Hunk's accepting his acceptance, but _still_. He'd signed the forms confirming his enrollment in the Garrison with all the enthusiasm of a man signing his will, and he'd panicked just about every day thereafter — _especially_ the day he was promoted to fighter class. He didn't want to fight anyone, and he _really_ didn't want to go to space — and had he been able to imagine getting caught in the middle of a ten-thousand-year-old intergalactic war against an ancient, evil emperor who harvests individuals' and planets' life forces for his own personal gain, he wouldn't have wanted to get involved. He's never wanted to be a hero.

He's never wanted to be a hero because, contrary to any and every movie ever produced by Disney, heroes _aren't meant to survive_. Shiro's proof enough of that.

… and _okay_ , Hunk will admit that he doesn't know _for sure_ that Shiro's dead — Keith, for one, is certain he's still alive — but Shiro's already returned from the dead once. It'd be too much to ask that he do it again.

 _… right?_

Hunk sighs, then shoves two more petits fours into his mouth, sinks down onto the floor, and draws his knees as close to his chest as his stomach will allow him to. The mice sleeping on his shoulders don't react to the sudden movement, and all Platt does is walk off the island and onto Hunk's head. Hunk chuckles humorlessly at the mouse's shenanigans before plucking him off his head and depositing him on his lap.

"There's an old Samoan proverb," he says once he finishes chewing. "' _Amuia le masina, e alu ma toe sau._ '"

The mouse cocks his head at Hunk, a curious expression on his face.

"How's it feel to be clueless as to what I'm saying?" Hunk asks, and his voice cracks at the end — although whether it's from crying or laughing, he doesn't know. "I'm guessing not very good — but don't worry, Platt. I'll translate. It basically means 'blessed is the moon, which can go and then return.'" He sighs. "I wish people could come back… but no, when someone dies, they're just… gone. Forever."

The mouse squeaks in response, but before Hunk can figure out what he's trying to say, he hears some suspicious noises coming from what sounds like just outside the kitchen.

 _What's going on_ now _?_ Hunk wonders as he sets the mice down on the floor, stands up, balls his hands into fists, and braces himself for the worst. He knows, rationally, that it can't be anything serious, considering the Castle's alarms haven't gone off, but he's not about to take any chances.

"Speaking of things that are gone forever…"

 _Coran?_

"… did I ever tell you about the time I sold a kidney for a couple of runacs?"

"I, uh…" Hunk stops to seriously consider the question, even though, if the way Coran's currently slumped against the doorframe is any indication of his blood-alcohol concentration, he won't know the difference between an honest answer and a lie. "I don't think so."

"Really? Well, now, that's a shame! It's quite a riveting tale, even if I _do_ say so myself!" Coran exclaims. "It all started when King Alfor told me that he needed to get his hands on some runacs, which are very rare pinkish-red gems that can only be found on the planet Runamyr. The Runamyran King had ceased all mining of the gems several deca-phoebs prior, though, due to the seismic activity that mining the runacs usually instigates. You see, the gems are located—."

" _Coran_ ," Hunk interrupts pointedly. "What does the gems' location have to do with your selling your kidney?"

"Oh! Well, when I arrived at Runamyr, I learned that the Princess had sirenomelia — a congenital deformity which caused her legs to be fused together much like a mermaid's, which I suspect was due to the fact that her mother was, in fact, a Mer from that frozen planet you and Number Three crash-landed on a few movements ago," Coran explains, and Hunk has to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking what _that_ has to do with his kidney. "Anyway," Coran adds, "the Princess was in dire need of a kidney, so I offered one of mine in exchange for a handful of runacs, which I presented to Alfor with a great ta-da and—."

"Coran?"

"Yes, Number Two?"

"How much nunvill did you drink tonight?"

"Hmm… enough to kill a krevel, probably — although I don't suppose that's saying much, given the fact that, despite their large size, they're actually extremely fragile creatures, what with their paper-thin skin and weak immune systems! A heat wave or a— _oh_! Speaking of heat," Coran chuckles, "did you know nunvill is flammable? I didn't know that until after I'd been captured by Glardaxian insurgents and tied to a chair in a cave along the side of the tallest mountain on the planet, and they poured nunvill around the chair and lit it on fire in the hope that it would cause a landslide big enough to crush the nearby royal palace! It was quite a precarious situation, but I managed to convince one of the bird-like creatures flying near the cave to get King Alfor, who was talking to the Glardaxian King, trying to clear the name of a good friend of ours who had been wrongfully charged with the murder of half a dozen men…"

"… and I thought Lance dragged _me_ into ridiculous situations," Hunk muses as he walks over to Coran and drapes his arm over his shoulders, letting the drunk Altean lean against him. "You should be a writer for _The Twilight Zone_ ," he adds, temporarily forgetting that Coran won't get the reference. "Anyway… shouldn't you be _sleeping_ , Coran?"

"Shouldn't you?" Coran retorts.

"Touché," Hunk concedes. He glances at Coran and, noticing that the Altean currently _reeks_ of nunvill, bites back a grimace. "Why were you getting drunk when everyone's supposed to be sleeping, though?" he asks.

"Well, I was _trying_ to convince Princess Allura to drink some nunvill, as she was having trouble falling asleep and nunvill, in small doses and when mixed with a particular herb, can be a wonderful sleep aid!"

"Oh," Hunk replies, the flatness of his voice conveying his disbelief in Coran's assertion that nunvill can be taken like Ambien®.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Coran asks. He glances at Hunk, then, shifting his gaze to the floor, mumbles something so incoherent the Castle's built-in translators don't pick it up and turns to leave. He stumbles, though, and Hunk has to wrap his arm around Coran's waist to steady him.

"It's the truth," Coran insists. "When I was younger, my grandfather used to let me take a sip of his nunvill whenever I couldn't sleep. However, I… well, I also figured a couple of drinks would, ah, take the edge off? We've all been so… _ornery_ … since Shiro disappeared — and _yes_ , I said 'we.' Allura and I miss Shiro, too.

"We know that none of you asked for this, and that you're all homesick — but you have to understand that Allura and I didn't ask for this, either," he continues, and his voice seems too solemn to be his own. "We don't even have a home to which we can return anymore. We have no one and nothing but the family we've found in you five and the promise of an Empire-free future." He sighs, then looks up at Hunk — and his gaze is surprisingly precise, given the fact that he's probably seeing double of the Yellow Paladin right now. "We acknowledged and accepted the risks of our endeavor long ago, and we knew that this was a possibility… but that doesn't mean that losing a member of our new family was any easier for us than it was for any of you. You're quite literally all we have now, and… well, we're hurting, too."

There are tears gathering in Coran's eyes as he speaks, but before Hunk can even think about commenting on them or, even better, wiping them away, the Altean blinks them away and adds, "at the same time, we understand that our mission is bigger than any one individual. We didn't get to grieve for Altea, and we don't have time to mourn Shiro. We _all_ wish we could stop and take a moment to process the lives that have been lost over the millennia, but we can't. We cannot chance giving the Galra time to regroup — because if we do, not only will the entire universe fall to tyranny, but everything Allura and I have lost will have been for naught."

Hunk doesn't react for a couple of ticks, but once he's sure Coran's done speaking, he turns his head to look at him. He looks exhausted and sad, and Hunk's heart breaks for him. He wonders what other angsty feelings the Altean man hides behind goofy grins and hyperbolic declarations, as well as whether Coran's rant is the consequence of his nunvill-induced abandon or simply being fed up with his grief being overlooked — because he's right, after all. As far as Hunk knows, no one on Team Voltron has ever stopped to consider the possibility that maybe — just _maybe_ — Coran's been grieving, too.

"I'm sorry, Coran," Hunk apologizes, even though "I'm sorry" doesn't even cover the _tip_ of what he wants to say. "You're right. We've been too preoccupied with our own grief to think about yours and Allura's, even though it should've been obvious to us that Shiro was important to you guys, too.

"I… I can't promise that we'll find Shiro, or that no one else will… _disappear_ ," Hunk continues, substituting the word "die" with the slightly less unpleasant _disappear_ , "but I _can_ assure you that Allura, Keith, Lance, Pidge, and I are all here right now, and that we all consider you family. Yes, Altea's gone, but you'll always, _always_ have a home with us — and we're gonna be here for a while, Coran. I don't know how we'll form Voltron without Shiro, but we'll figure something out. We're brave and we're smart and we're strong. We'll be okay."

"You know what, Num—uh, Hunk?" Coran responds, smiling softly. "I believe you."

Hunk shoots Coran a smile of his own, then, as Coran's chin falls to his chest and Hunk realizes that the Altean's falling asleep standing up, frowns. He snaps his fingers beside Coran's ear to wake him up.

"You should drink some water," Hunk suggests, leading Coran over to the fridge as he does so. He retrieves a water pouch from one of the shelves in the fridge, stabs the straw into the plastic, and raises the pouch to Coran's lips. He quickly sucks it dry, but he rejects Hunk's offer to get him another.

"Okay, let's get you to bed," Hunk says. He grabs another water pouch (to put at Coran's bedside), then, with his arm wrapped around Coran's waist, starts for the Altean's bedroom. It's difficult to navigate the dimly-lit, unfamiliar halls, but Hunk manages to interpret Coran's half-conscious grunts as either positive or negative, and soon enough, they're walking into his room.

 _Oh, wow_ , Hunk thinks as he lowers the now-sleeping Coran onto the bed and, chuckling slightly at the sight of the teddy bear-like thing at the corner of the bed, tucks him in. _He's really made this place his home._

 _… as much a home as it can be, given the circumstances, that is_ , he amends, averting his gaze from the framed photograph of King Alfor and Coran that's hanging above Coran's pillow.

 _Allura and I didn't ask for this, either._

Hunk sighs.

 _I guess I should be grateful that I still have a planet to return to when this is all over… so long as the Galra haven't conquered Earth, that is._

Hunk grimaces, then, ridding himself of the macabre thought with a shake of his head, crouches down to set the water pouch he'd snagged from the kitchen on the floor beside Coran's bed. "Goodnight, Coran," he whispers as he turns to leave.

"G'night… an' 'ank you, Hunk."

Hunk stops in his tracks, surprised to have gotten a response [albeit one obstructed by a yawn], then smiles softly.

"You're welcome."


	6. Ch 6: Lance

**Author's Note: This chapter centers on Lance, and takes place sometime between S3E4 and S3E6.**

 ** _Gordito_ is a Spanish term of endearment that translates as "little fat one."**

 _ **Uso**_ **is a Samoan word used to refer to your same-sex sibling, or to your same-sex friend who you view as being _like_ your sibling.**

 _ **Co**_ ** _ño_ is a Spanish swear word that roughly translates to "fuck."**

 **The song Hunk is singing at the end of this one-shot is called _Moe i le po masina_. It's a popular Samoan song, so there are a lot of variations; my personal favorite is Lole Usoalii's cover. The lyrics roughly translate to:**

 **As I slept on the moonlight night,**

 **Dreaming of your countenance,**

 **At that very moment,**

 **The Milky Way glimmered.**

 **I awoke and arose,**

 **My mind disquieted.**

 **A sweat overcame me**

 **As tear drops fell.**

* * *

"Hunk!" Lance half-cries, half-coughs as Hunk steps into his bedroom.

"Hi, Lance." Hunk shuffles the tray he's holding into one hand so that he can wave at his friend. "Are you feeling any better? I heard you sneezed on Pidge to get back at her for saying you're not dying."

"Well, I _am_ dying! I've got the _space flu_ , Hunk! I need to go to the _space hospital_!"

Hunk purses his lips and considers telling Lance that, unlike Sven, he does _not_ need to be escorted to a "space hospital," then thinks better of it. "I brought soup," he says instead, gesturing to the tray in his hand. "Will that suffice?"

"I guess," Lance sulks. "I mean, I still can't really taste any— _ah_ , _achoo_!"

He sneezes so hard he faceplants into the veritable mountain of blankets on his lap, and the only reason Hunk is able to refrain from bursting out laughing is because he feels a twinge of sympathy for the Blue Paladin; being sick is never fun, after all.

"Ugh, _Hunk_ …" Lance moans into his comforter. "I'm _so cold_ , but my blankets smell like _sick_."

"I can't imagine why," Hunk responds sarcastically. He sets the tray he brought down on the floor beside the videogame consoles cluttering Lance's bedroom, then helps Lance first into an upright position, then out of bed. "I'll change your sheets while you eat your soup, okay?"

"You're the best, Hunk," Lance sniffs as he shuffles over to his food, plops down on the floor, and pulls the bowl of soup into his lap. "You're the only one who cares about me — well, you and Coran. He brought me something earlier that—." He sneezes again, but continues before Hunk can even say "bless you." "—that was supposed to, uh, dry up excess fluids or something? I didn't take it, though, because if Alteans have something like that, wouldn't Coran have taken it when he got the slipperies?"

"I would think so, but then again, this is _Coran_ we're talking about," Hunk replies, grimacing at the mention of the alien condition. "I'd ask him later, but honestly, I don't want to know the answer. If I found out that he could have taken something for it and _didn't_ , I'm gonna wanna throw him out the airlock. I was almost as disgusted by the slipperies as I was by the Garrison's mac-and-cheese."

"I still don't think the mac-and-cheese was that bad, _gordito_."

Hunk glances over his shoulder at Lance, then turns back around, pulls Lance's comforter off his bed, and gets to work removing his sheets. "I don't care what you think, _uso_ ," he says. "I've seen you eat _instant mashed potatoes_ , without butter _or_ salt—."

Lance chuckles. He's guilty as charged, and he's shameless enough to own up to it.

"—straight outta the pot, _voluntarily_ , and, worst of all, _more than once_ ," Hunk continues, his disapproval blatant. "When it comes to food, your opinion is irrelevant."

"Oh? I guess that means I'm finally off taste-tester duty," Lance ribs, his voice slightly less nasally than it was a couple of doboshes ago.

"I don't care whether you're on it or not," Hunk responds, shrugging. He drops Lance's sheets onto the puddle of germ-ridden and sweat-soaked sheets on the floor, then turns around and shoots the Cuban boy a smirk that's nothing short of provocative. "I mean, I'm sure I could convince Pidge to taste-test the churro recipe I've been working on lately."

" _What?!_ "

"I could even eat the fruits of my labor _all by myself_ , if need be," Hunk taunts.

" _Co_ _ñ_ _o_ , Hunk, don't you _da_ —quiznak, that _hurts_!" Lance cries, cutting himself off with a whine and settling for glaring at Hunk as he massages the swollen lymph nodes in his throat.

Hunk shoots Lance a pointed look, with one eyebrow raised and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "If you were a _good_ patient who just shut up and ate their soup, your throat wouldn't be hurting right now, you know," he teases.

"Whatever."

Hunk shakes his head, then turns back around to start putting fresh sheets on Lance's bed. "Anyway…" he adds, his voice softer and more solemn now, "we _all_ care about you, buddy — and _yes_ , I'm including Keith in that 'we.' He came into the kitchen while I was making your soup and asked if you were feeling any better, but before I could answer, we were interrupted by the sound of Pidge screaming about your having sneezed on her."

"Why didn't Keith just ask me how I'm feeling himself?" Lance pouts.

"I don't know," Hunk responds. "I guess he just didn't want to risk getting caught up in a conversation. I mean, he only stopped by the kitchen to grab some water before he went out to search for Shiro again."

There's a pregnant lull in the conversation as Lance digests this information.

"Do you think we'll ever find him, Hunk?"

"Well, anything's possible," Hunk answers, and his voice is _almost_ steady enough to convince himself of that. "I mean, we found him in an alternate reality, and there's nothing really stopping us from finding him in _this_ one."

He glances over his shoulder, intending to shoot Lance a reassuring smile, but the despair in Lance's eyes resonates all too well with the ever-growing pit of anxiety in his stomach, and Hunk's forced to shift his attention to the soup in the Blue Paladin's lap to keep from bursting into tears. "How's the soup?" he asks.

"I don't know. I can't taste anything. I can't _smell_ anything, either. I can't even _breathe_ ," Lance complains, and Hunk can hear the phlegm in Lance's throat shifting as he sighs. "It's hot, though, and for the moment, at least, I don't feel like I have a plug up my nose, so I'm ready and willing to call it a godsend."

"I'm glad it's helping," Hunk chuckles. He smooths out Lance's bedsheet and lays a thick blanket on top of it, then takes the pile of soiled sheets into his arms. "Anyway, I'm done changing your sheets. I'll take these dirty ones to the laundry room and come back to check on you later, okay?"

"Aw, no!" Lance whines, drawing out the – _oh_ sound in _no_ and dropping his spork back into the bowl of soup in his lap. "You can't leave me, Hunk! I need cuddles."

Hunk frowns, displeased by the thought of coming in closer contact with whatever virus Lance has managed to contract and getting sick himself, but nods his assent nonetheless. He's dealt with sick!Lance before, and he knows that he'll just act increasingly pathetic until someone caves in to his demands — and there's _no way_ that that someone will be either Keith or Pidge.

"You'll stay?" Lance asks, his surprise evident in his voice.

"Yeah." He extends a hand to Lance to help him off the floor. "I'll stay. If you sneeze on me, though, I'm leaving."

"I guess that's fair," Lance laughs. He weakly shoves Hunk onto his bed, and Hunk plays along, flopping down onto Lance's bed with an amused huff. He settles himself against the headboard, then spreads his arms out in an invitation for Lance to join him. He does so readily, quickly snuggling up against Hunk.

"You _do_ realize I'm not a pillow, right?" Hunk asks as Lance nestles his face against his chest.

"You might as well be a pillow," Lance mutters in response. "You're comfy. Soft," he adds, patting Hunk's stomach fondly.

Hunk chuckles, unwilling to laugh wholeheartedly at the risk of jostling Lance too much. "It's because I'm fat, _uso_." He raises one eyebrow and glances over Lance's slender frame. "I'm pretty sure my bicep is thicker than your waist, in fact."

"Whatever," Lance grumbles. "You're soft and warm, and you make a good teddy bear." He nuzzles deeper into Hunk's side, then adds, "that's an unfair comparison, anyway. You could rip your sleeves just by flexing."

Hunk chuckles again. "When we get back to Earth, buy me one of those 'I flexed and the sleeves fell off' shirts," he suggests.

"If we—."

" _When_ we," Hunk corrects, sensing where the conversation is going.

" _When we_ ," Lance amends, although his voice sounds a lot less certain now, "get back to Earth, the first thing I'm going to do is give my mom a hug so strong it'll put even _your_ bear hugs to shame."

Hunk scratches Lance's scalp affectionately. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a mama's boy like you," he says.

"You're a mama's boy, too," Lance grouses. He closes his eyes and throws one arm over Hunk's stomach, then, softly, says, "sing me that song, Hunk."

"What song?" Hunk asks.

"The sad-sounding Samoan one that you sang whenever you felt homesick back at the Garrison," Lance answers.

" _Moe i le po masina_ ," Hunk breathes.

He looks down at Lance, who's nestled snugly against him, and his expression softens, both out of sympathy for Lance and because of the pain that comes from missing his own family — especially his mother.

Lance was right. Hunk's a mama's boy, too.

" _Moe i le po masina..._ " Hunk sings, filling Lance's small bedroom with his rich baritone. " _Moe miti i ou foliga…_ "

He closes his eyes… because with his eyes closed, he can [almost] pretend that he's back at the Garrison, only miles away from his family, rather than lightyears.

" _Le taimi tonu lea… ua tu fa'asipa ai le aniva... o'u nofo loa i luga... fa'asolo o'u mafaufauga... lo'u tino ua maniti... loimata ua maligi..._ "


End file.
